“Not yet,” said Terrard. “I thought I’d wait until I’d seen you.”
“Have you seen him since?” said Charlbury.
“No,” answered Terrard. “I thought it best to let it stew a little—eh?” He looked sideways at his partner, a little nervously. That partner was staring at the fire. “You see,” added Terrard, “he’s one of that funny kind. Quite empty to look at.... Nothing behind his eyes.... Might be grandpapa.” Charlbury nodded slowly at the description—he had met that kind before, and he knew how their vast wealth had been garnered.
“I was right not to rush him?” Terrard concluded anxiously. Charlbury continued to nod slowly at the fire. Then he gave a guffaw, roaring out:
“So you don’t call that ‘rushing,’ eh?” and he chuckled hugely, putting a familiar hand on Terrard’s knee to emphasize his enjoyment. “Two days after ’e landed, rushed him for Touaregs,” and he chuckled again, “and it’s ’ardly a week yet!”
“Well, but ...” went on Terrard, still more nervously, “I told you I hadn’t seen him again. I thought I’d see.... But you know I’m for acting all the same.... I don’t think he minds. It is certainly ‘yes’ or ‘no’ with him, and we have all heard what he is, though we haven’t seen him.”
“You’ve seen ’im,” sighed Charlbury—he was faintly jealous of his young partner’s opportunities; for in his heart he nourished secret ambition, and he saw, far off, a day—distant but bound to come before he died—when he should himself emerge, laden with gold, into the great world.
“Yes,” answered Terrard snappishly, “I’ve not seen him till just now, and then only once. We’ve all heard of him and his lunacies. He’s capable of vanishing at a moment’s notice, without telling any one.”
Charlbury nodded again, and said more softly and musingly:
“You’ve told ’em in Broad Street that you’ve some one in your eye?”